


Cure

by Lafaiette



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Children, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1232542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafaiette/pseuds/Lafaiette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade has to face cancer in a different way and he’s not ready for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cure

At least twice a month, the Avengers visited orphanages and hospitals to bring toys and gifts to the abandoned or ill children. Most of the time their presence alone was gift enough, especially when the young boys and girls could touch Iron Man’s suit or shake Captain America’s hand.

Steve was the one that most insisted for these visits, saying it was their duty of heroes to bring happiness and some comfort to poor souls who often lived gray and sad lives, either without parents or trapped in a bed with no chance of getting better anytime soon.

Peter loved these moments; despite the bad reputation the mayor constantly tried to give him, the majority of the children loved and admired him. He was one of the most requested heroes when they organized the visits and he never skipped them, especially when they had to go to hospitals or clinics, where children were sadder and more _cautious_ about their desires and hopes for the future, since some of them didn’t even know if they had that anymore.

He often carried little boys and girls on his shoulders and walked on the ceiling, making them giggle and observe their coloured ward upside down. The women of the team spent time with the older girls, gently asking about their desires, their favorite actors, complimenting their intelligent eyes and braiding their hair. The girls almost always requested the hairstyle of their heroines or timidly asked to see their powers.

Initially he refused to come, claiming it could be dangerous, that he didn’t trust himself; in the end, though, also Banner started to take part in this routine. Steve or Tony kept an eye on him, but the shy presence of the children, the pastel colours on the walls and the cute toys they bought were enough to calm him and made him the perfect big teddy bear children could play with without danger.

When it was time to go home, Peter noticed how there was always a heavy lump in his throat, how Jessica or Jennifer’s eyes glistened under the artificial lights, the mournful smile on Steve’s lips. It was hard seeing kids so young and longing for life spending their time there, their pale faces and weak bodies telling stories of pain, illness and loneliness.

The hardest part was meeting those who didn’t have a chance. Bald little heads shining in the rooms, arms and legs too weak to support them, innocent eyes filled with resignation and an invisible shrug, as if to say “bad things happen”.

Peter and the others always tried to spend more time with these special children, to take off the heaviness of their illness from their tiny bodies with jokes, stories, books and toys. When it was time to leave _them_ , there was no smile on Steve’s lips, Tony was quiet, Jessica and Jennifer hid their tears with a hand and Peter felt powerless and angry, angrier than ever at this fucked up world.   
  
  
  
\- - -  
  
  
  
 _'Steve loves making us suffer.'_ Peter thought grimacing under his mask as the soldier informed them that he arranged a visit to the new hospital of the city, specialized in treating terminal patients. It wasn’t referred to as a hospice - the little ones didn’t need to know that truth -, but the city knew that was its purpose and the reason it had been built.

Peter saw Logan shifting uncomfortably on his seat. He had come with them on more occasions, but he had never been very good with children and their needs; he said that for the umpteenth time, preferring to pass and leave the hard work to them.

"Tony, are the toys ready?" Steve asked and the billionaire slowly nodded, a shadow of anxiety on his bearded face. 

"Are you sure about this? The kids that are there need quietness and peace." Clint asked fidgeting and not looking very excited by the idea of bothering children with cancer.

"I’ve already talked with the head physician. We can visit them for few hours. It’ll be a nice distraction." Steve looked over at Peter and Bruce. "But I’ve been given rules. Parker, don’t carry them around, you may hurt them. Bruce, be _extremely_ gentle. If you see they are tired, stop playing and bring them back to their beds.” The soldier sighed and glanced at the others. “The same is valid for all of you too, of course.”

And so they went, bringing their gifts in three big bags, every package wrapped in colorful paper and ribbons. Peter wasn’t holding any, due to his peculiar means of transportation, and stayed behind, lost in his thoughts, already imagining the children’s faces, their bright smiles among the disease, medicines and machines.

It was then that he heard it.

"Hi there, Spidey!"

_… Damn._

He stopped on the edge of a building, looking behind. Deadpool, in his unmistakable red and black costume, was grinning and waving at him.

"Deadpool." Peter curtly greeted. "Please, tell me you are not here for a mercenary job. I don’t have the time to deal with you today."

"Always so rude! Why can’t you be nicer to me?" the merc pouted walking over to him and smiling mischievously again. "Don’t worry, I’m here to take a break. I’m exhausted after a shitty hard mission in Mexico… and before you ask, I didn’t kill anyone!" He put a hand on the hero’s shoulder, making him tense up. "Speaking of break… why don’t you take one too and join me in my apartment to drink a beer, watch some TV and hopefully make out on my bed? I swear I cleaned it!"

Peter allowed a small smile to appear on his face and mask.

"No, thanks. I’m busy today."

"That wasn’t a ‘no’ for tomorrow." Wade noticed wiggling his eyebrows, the red and black fabric moving accordingly. "What do you have to do anyway? I didn’t heard bad news on the TV, there are no monsters, mad scientists or Apocalypses in the city… right?" the last part sounded hesitant and slightly worried and Peter wondered how Wade managed to deal with his fickle attention span and memory.

"No emergencies, but…" the hero started, then looked back, towards the hospice. He could see it from there and the others were probably waiting for him. He needed to hurry.

"Listen, Wade, I really have to go now. Please go home and… and try not to get into trouble. Don’t kill. Don’t do anything that would cause me to come and kick your ass."

"You’re no fun." the merc whined and he strengthened his grip on Peter’s shoulder before letting go. "Fine, go! I’ll stay here, admiring your legs and perfect butt."

"I’m flattered. Slow down, smooth talker, or you’ll make me swoon." Peter deadpanned before showing another small smile and swinging away, hoping the others weren’t too angry at him.

He didn’t notice Wade following him with his usual naughty grin.  
  
  
  
\- - -  
  
  


After facing Captain America’s annoyed glare, Peter and the others finally entered the hospice, greeted by two doctors. The place was tidy, neat, clean; it smelled of medicines, bleach and that vague scent of hospital Peter couldn’t say he loved. There was silence, except for the almost inaudible beeps of machineries, the low chatting of the nurses, some distant, frail laughters.

The doctors thanked them with genuine gratefulness and repeated the last recommendations before letting them enter the children’s ward. There were only five rooms, each with five beds, and the heroes decided to visit each alone or in couple.

Peter spent a nice hour in the first room. He gave the children some of the gifts taken from one of the bags, smiling at their excitement and joy. They didn’t look very ill, every one of them could leave the bed and even jump and run a little in the room. Still he remembered the rules and the kids were clever, too, because they never asked him to be carried on his shoulders. He made hammocks and shared stories on them, the youngest children resting on his lap, the others listening to him from their bed of webs.

For a moment he thought about Wade. The children reminded him of the merc, of his situation, of his past. He knew something about the Weapon X program and the Hospice where its failed experiments had found torture and agony. He never asked Wade what exactly they had done to him there, but he knew it wasn’t anything good, that the poor man went through Hell and was still living it.

He thanked God for the chance of peace and comfort these kids had found in this place, in the toys and soft smiles people gave them, and forced back the tears when a bald kid with blue, melancholic eyes fell asleep on his legs.

After taking them back to bed and kissing their forehead, Peter visited the second room; Steve and Tony were still in the third one, down the hallway; Bruce, Jennifer and Jessica were in the fourth one and by the sound of it they were having fun.

"Hi, kids! Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is… _what the hell?_ ”

The five kids turned their head to the door and gasped.

"Another Spider-Man!" a little boy murmured with awe.

Standing at the center of the room, surrounded by pale, skinny kids, there was Deadpool. He tensed up seeing Peter, but instantly relaxed and exclaimed: “Hi, baby boy! It’s nice seeing you again. Uh… well, this is awkward…”

"Yes." Peter hissed, walking over to him, and even if he was wearing a mask his glare was perfectly visible. "Yes, it’s _very_ awkward. What are you doing here, Deadpool?”

"Told you it wasn’t Spidey!" a little girl on a wheelchair said smacking gently her friend’s arm. "His costume is different!"

Wade looked down at the children and his expression softened, so much that Peter couldn’t help but stare at him with surprise.

"I followed you and entered from the window. But I didn’t expect you to come… here." the merc cleared his throat and fidgeted uncomfortably on the spot. "What is this, the Avengers’ charity day? I had no idea they did this too."

"Kinda, yeah." Peter smiled gently at the children and caressed the nearest heads. Then he brought his attention back to the other man, studying his masked face. "Listen, I don’t want you to cause trouble, not _here_. So please…”

"Hey, who do you think I am?" Wade was the one glaring at him now. "I have some basic morals, although the world likes to think the opposite." He glanced down at the children, who were talking softly to each other and giggling, intrigued by the merc’s weapons and the colorful boxes Peter had in a web bag.

"I… I can relate to them. I know how it feels to…" he shrugged and for a moment Peter could swear to have heard his voice crack. "… to be like this."

The young man looked at the merc for more few seconds, then sighed and nodded.

"Fine. You can stay. Help me with the gifts, would you?"

"Did you hear, kids?" Wade exclaimed taking Peter’s bag and shaking the packages. He was back to his normal self now, his loud, cheerful voice booming in the room. "Christmas came earlier this year! Let’s see what we got here!"

"Easy there!" Peter whispered as the gifts were handed to happy and squealing children. "Don’t make them too excited, they need rest!"

"They need _fun!_ " Wade snorted. He gently smacked away one tiny hand from one of his holsters. "No touchy, little rascal. That’s not for you."

"Is that a true gun? Like the ones on TV?" the boy who had attempted to touch it asked with sparkly eyes.

"This is better than anything they show on the screen!" Wade bragged, but a nudge from Peter convinced him not to take the weapon out. "… But it’s not really safe to use it here, is it? Sorry, sweetie."

"Look, even these swords are real!" a little girl called out extending a hand to touch one of the blades. Peter yelped and gently lifted her before she could cut her fingers.

"Would you please take those off?" he hissed at Wade. "Coming in a hospital full of children with swords and guns… really, Wade?"

"I didn’t know there were children here!" the merc whined as he removed his weapons and Peter stuck them on the ceiling using his webs. "Remind me to take them back later, I need those."

"Yeah, I know that…" the hero grumbled, but the children’s smiles were enough to make him feel better and less angry.

They spent a good hour on the hammocks just like he had done before; Wade was loud, noisy, his presence filled the whole room. Peter fretted and felt anxious when the merc lifted one of the children and played with them; but he soon saw the gentleness Wade was using, the way his hands never lingered too long or too hard on the weak bodies. His voice was sweet, his jokes a little bit crude, but he never made fun of their situation.

Again, Peter found himself thinking and musing about him; Wade knew how these kids felt and at the same time he didn’t, because his childhood - albeit horrible - had been without illness, he had known it only much later and there had been no quiet death for him.

But Wade knew the feeling of cancer eating cells, skin, life; he knew how it felt like to know there was no hope, to see energy, strength and hair disappear.

Peter observed in silence the children who soon would know death and the man who would suffer forever, trapped in an endless loop, and the familiar lump in his throat came back.

"Mister Deadpool." one of the girls called and Wade gently pinched her cheek, making her giggle.

"What is it, princess?"

"Is it true you had cancer too? I heard dad talking about you once."

A heavy, expecting silence fell in the room and Peter could see how much tense and stiff Wade was now.

The girl tugged at his costume, a hopeful smile on her white lips.

"He said you found a cure, is that true? Can it work on us too?"

Wade gulped and opened his mouth once, twice, before clearing his throat and shaking slowly his head. The five children looked sad, now, but not exactly surprised, as if they had expected such an answer.

"My treatment was for adults only, sweetiepie. And I… I had a different situation." Wade’s hands gripped tightly the edge of the hammock and Peter, sitting in front of him, sensed his discomfort and pain.

"But will there be a cure for us?" one of the boys asked timidly. "Every time I ask mom she looks at me with a strange smile and nods, but she doesn’t seem so sure."

Peter and Wade exchanged a look and the merc looked so lost, so anguished, that the young man intervened with haste: “Of course there will be! It… it may require time, but don’t worry, there will be definitely one.” He tried to smile among his own pain and sorrow. “You will feel better soon.”

"Promise?" one girl said and the others repeated the question, eyes already so old looking for hope.

"Promise." Peter answered and that single word broke his heart.

Wade muttered something, left hastily the hammock and anxiously pointed at his weapons webbed on the ceiling.

"Give me those back."

"Wade…" Peter fell on the floor too and approached him. He couldn’t see his face, but he didn’t need to to know how he was feeling.

"I need to go, Peter. _Now._ " There was a not-so-well hidden prayer in his voice and the young man did as he said and, after crawling on the ceiling, let the weapons fall on the merc’s open arms.

He put everything back in its place, then exclaimed, faking mirth: “It was a pleasure, kids, but I really have to go now. I can’t miss my _Golden Girls_ reruns.” He smiled shakily under the mask and fortunately the children didn’t notice anything off. They said goodbye and every one of them wanted to climb down the hammock to hug him and said thanks for the toys. Peter helped one of the girls to sit back on her wheelchair and Wade awkwardly patted everyone’s back, not used to that display of affection.

"Eat your vegetables!" he said opening the window and placing one foot on the external fire escape. "And don’t forget to brush your teeth and wash your hands after taking a dump."

The children giggled and Peter, still worried by the merc’s behavior, didn’t even notice the bad choice of words. He locked eyes with Wade, who murmured before going: “… See you later, Spidey.” But he didn’t climb down the stairs, he went _upstairs_ , probably on the roof, and Peter realized how much the merc was suffering, how much things had become unbearably difficult for him.

"Children, I…" he started, hesitated, then concluded: "Wait here, okay? I’ll come back soon." The kids complained, but in the end they promised to wait for his return without much fuss.

Peter looked at them one last time before exiting from the same window, the heaviness in his heart stronger than ever.   
  
  
  
\- - -  
  
  
  
Wade was indeed on the roof and he was sobbing, his back resting on a white wall, mask thrown carelessly on the ground.

Peter slowly walked over to him, mouth dry and heart pounding fast.

"Wade…?" he called and Wade wailed harder, a hand covering his eyes, the other clenched at his side.

Peter sat next to him, took off his mask and waited, waited with all the patience in the world, listening to the sobs and hiccups of the other man, feeling his sadness and despair and understanding him and his pain.

"A… A _cure_!” Wade suddenly snarled, his voice hoarser than ever, similar to a growl, so much that Peter jumped. “A goddamn fucking cure, Spidey!” He whimpered, hot tears streaming down his scarred face. “Did you see how they were looking at us? They… they still _hope_ and they asked us - they asked _me_ \- if they will feel better!” A sniff, then other sobs. “Fucking irony! Fucking… _cancer_ _!_ " he took his mask, looked at it with fire in his eyes, gritting his teeth. Peter saw hate and misery on that disfigured face and tears stung his eyes.

"Wade…" he called again, placing a hand on a shaking shoulder.

"This world is shit." the merc continued, still staring at the mask. "There is no justice, no goodness in it." He shook his head, biting his lower lip, and he suddenly looked so lost, so similar to those children who just wanted peace and a life free from the disease. Peter moved his hand and placed it on the merc’s, making him look at him.

Wade seemed surprised to see him without mask - and he also noticed the tears in his eyes -, but he was too desperate to comment about it.

"Peter…" he sobbed hiding his face behind a hand again. "God, Peter, if I could…"

"I know." Peter rested his head on his shoulder, holding his hand, listening to his wails and letting him vent. "I know, Wade. Me too."

He didn’t know how much time they spent on that roof, but in the end Wade started breathing normally, sniffing just once in a while, eyes casted down, hand still squeezed by Peter’s.

"I think… I think I should go now." he murmured with hoarse voice and Peter helped him getting up. He didn’t let his hand go though.

"Well…" the merc awkwardly played with his mask, since he couldn’t put it on as long as Peter was holding his other hand. "I’ll see you soon, then." He looked embarrassed, ashamed, and Peter went nearer him, brown, gentle eyes observing every scar, every bloody wound and sore caused by cancer.

"Tomorrow." he said and Wade looked up at him with surprise.

"What?"

"We have a date. Remember?" Peter smiled almost shyly. "I didn’t say ‘no’ for tomorrow."

Wade opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out and he gave up. Then he snorted, rubbed his thumb on the back of Peter’s hand and pulled away.

"12PM, on that building we met today?" he suggested, staring at Peter with an expression akin to rapture and something bigger, even warmer.

"Deal."

Wade nodded, put on his mask, nodded again and walked away. Peter looked at him until he arrived at the edge of the roof and then Wade looked back.

"T-Thanks!" he shouted, looking like a bashful child, then climbed down, disappearing from Peter’s sight.

The young man stayed here for few more minutes, heart pounding again, but this time it was different, this time he was the one feeling hope and he prayed he could make Wade feel like that too, that he could find a cure for the pain eating his heart.


End file.
